


Forbidden Glimpses

by Herk



Series: The Life and Love of Mycroft Holmes [13]
Category: Sherlock - Fandom
Genre: Complete, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-07
Updated: 2017-06-07
Packaged: 2018-11-10 05:01:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11120427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Herk/pseuds/Herk
Summary: Forearm porn





	Forbidden Glimpses

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lavender_and_Vanilla](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lavender_and_Vanilla/gifts).



> Lavender_and_Vanilla dared me. So this is her fault.
> 
> Unbeta'd because of impatience.

Mycroft Holmes dressed immaculately - always.

 

When Greg Lestrate first met the British Goverment it was at a crime scene in the middle of the night. Nevertheless not a hair was out of place. His threepiece was obviously tailormade as well as the coat. Despite the fact that he was worried about his brother not even a speck of dust destroyed the impression of his polished shoes, his perfectly black brolly, and his cashmere scarf.

 

For years he never saw the elder Holmes looking any different - the ties changed to match the different suits as did the shoes, but never the overall style.

 

After a few years Greg began to recognise certain subtle signs and identified a certain tie and two pairs of cufflinks as Mycroft's 'casual wear'. With everyone else that concept would have been ridiculous but it was so quintessentially Holmesian that it made Greg smile.

 

The first time he ever saw a crack in that perfect armour was of course due to Sherlock. It was always about Sherlock.

 

When Sherlock went missing in the middle of July while he was investigating one of Lestrade's cases, the inspector felt it was his duty to give Mycroft the news personally. It wasn't a pleasant prospect to face the British Government but just calling him over the phone would have felt like cowardice in the face of a formidable foe. Due to their amicable working relationship when it came to Sherlock, Greg was on Mycroft's 'may visit at all times' list in the Diogenes Club. The establishment was placed in an old building and the heat was far more bearable than in most places throughout the city. But the air conditioning wasn't exactly up to modern standards either, a fact that became painfully apparent at temperatures close to 40°C.

 

As he entered Mycroft's office without much of a warning he caught the British Government in a compromising situation - not with his pants down but with his sleeves rolled up.

 

The politician sat hunched down over paperwork at his desk and didn't even look up when the door opened. No unauthorised person would be allowed to enter in this establishment, so there was no reason to do so. He was only wearing a button down shirt and a vest, his suit jacket carefully draped over the chair's back. His sleeves were rolled up and his cufflinks were placed on the desk right next to his left hand. Even his tie was loosened to a certain degree. Despite these concessions there was still sweat forming on Mycroft's forehead. The heat was pretty unbearable.

 

When Greg cleared his throat, Holmes looked up. Seeing the policeman in his office his expression changed from mildly irritated to one of shocked surprise that was almost immediately covered up by a mask of impassive superiority. He put down his sleeves as if it was the most natural thing to do in these temperatures.

 

While not a Holmes himself, Lestrade was anything but blind and he could have sworn he spotted a slight blush that was not quite covered by the loose tie and shirt.

 

"Inspector?"

 

Any observations regarding Mycroft Holmes were quickly forgotten as they focussed on finding the wayward brother for the next couple of hours.

 

As they slowly but surely turned from acquaintances to allies and then to friends, Greg began to relax more and more around the older Holmes. It wasn't that he was a slob when it came to his appearance - a DI at the Yard had a certain image to maintain after all - but he didn't mind if Mycroft saw him in his casual clothes down at the pub or if he dropped in for an unheeded visit to discuss a certain consulting detective in the wee morning hours because it was convenient to his own schedule. As far as Greg was concerned there was nothing to be ashamed of if he was seen in boxers and an old washed out t-shirt - not if it was half five on a Tuesday and he was just on his way to hit the shower.

 

Yet Mycroft seldom took off even his jacket in the other man's company.

 

Which was a pity - especially after Greg had admitted to himself that he liked the other man as more than just a mate. He hadn't found the courage to confess his feelings, yet he would have loved the opportunity to catch a glimpse of skin from time to time.

 

It wasn't that forearms in and of themselves were a major erotic sight. But Greg loved Mycroft's long slender hands and thought they would be brought out even more by sleeveless arms. And the British Government's obsession to keep himself covered somehow made even the tiniest bit of exposed skin beyond the usual an exciting thing.

 

So when on the second evening of the conference where Greg volunteered as Mycroft Holmes' bodyguard the politician put away his jacket, took out his cufflinks and pulled up his sleeves, Lestrade couldn't help but stare a tiny bit.

 

Mycroft looked first at him then down at his own, pale arms. "Is anything the matter, Gregory?"

 

"No - not at all. It's just an unusual sight." He covered up any hint of embarrassment with a grin.

 

Holmes actually answered it with a smile of his own. "It might surprise you, Inspector, but I do even undress from time to time, for such arduous tasks as sleeping or taking a bath. I'm only human after all."

 

"You usually don't want people to know that though."

 

"You, my dear Gregory, are hardly 'people'. So I trust you won't spill my well-guarded secret." With an amused twinkle Mycroft loosened his tie and turned to work on his day's notes, for once not noticing the effect his words had.

 

Even after they got together, even when they shared a bed, a home, a name - Mycroft's suit mostly stayed in perfect condition and untouched by any kind of imperfection or signs of casualness. Mycroft's suit and shirt and tie were his armour. So Greg treasured each and every time when My let down that armour, when he opened a single button on his shirt, loosened his tie, or put up his sleeves.


End file.
